My globe is always the most difficult thing for me to pack. It was an eighteenth birthday present from my parents who chose muted antique tones and a sturdy dark wood base. Since then, it has been one of my favourite things and had pride of place wherever I have been able to take it with me.
Its size and height mean that as well as being awkward and fragile to pack into boxes, it is also difficult to position in a new home. It is always one of the first things I think about when I am arranging objects in my mind ahead of a move. It needs a large, safe space so often ends up quite high, surveying the living room from a deep shelf. As a result, it rarely improves my geographical knowledge of where countries are; instead presenting vague hints of places I have visited, or imparting an inspiring glimpse of potential new destinations, depending on which part of the world it rests, rarely to be disturbed until the next move.